prostitute
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Do you remember me?
Do you remember the way you pulled at my hair?
Bit my shoulders
Thighs
Legs
The way you hit me
Leaving marks of yourself over me
The way you flung money on my face
They say you see
someone’s soul
Through their eyes
I see their souls
In the money they
Slide into my jacket
She grabbed her pearl beads
And her room key
Left her soul in agony
Cold street corners
Search for donors
Empty handed she won’t be
Empty hearted, possibly
Dying slowly, audibly
Watery eyes, gaze at the endless sky.
A crumbling face, pale as moon
Searching for hope in a nickel and dime.
Life is a pair of black corsets, fishnet stockings and cheap lipstick,
suffering from the intoxicating riches of each breath.
and in the midst of it all is a shadowed wrong turn,
in which my legs keep gliding through air.
She was never the type to fall in love
Rather fall into bed
"Having a good time" was one of her mottos
Got what she wanted then fled
Hell no she didn’t want no ring on her finger